Classically trained at the Stratford Chefs School in Stratford, Ont., David Ferguson spent years working in top establishments like Toqué! and Au Pied de Cochon.Dario Ayala
/ The Gazette

Lettuce wraps filled with tempura-fried shrimp and aubergine atop a mound of spicy salmon tartare had a fabulous contrast of textures and flavours.Dario Ayala
/ The Gazette

A pork chop marinated in buttermilk, front, Salmon and shrimp wraps, left, and a Caesar salad, right, from the restaurant Gus in Little Italy in Montreal photographed on Thursday, July 4, 2013.Dario Ayala
/ The Gazette

MONTREAL - Chefs have countless decisions to make, and by that I don’t mean whether to start chicken stock first, or rearrange the walk-in before the morning deliveries arrive. No, there are bigger decisions than that, and the most important has to do with style — as in, when I cook, what exactly do I want to cook? Considering the classical method most cooking schools chose for training, the obvious route is French. Most kids begin working in restaurants with a continental menu, and if that menu is, say, “contemporary” or even the now often much bandied about “nouveau Québécois,” the majority of the techniques remain French. And that’s an excellent way to get going because those basics provide a solid foundation on which a professional cook can build his or her skills.

Said chef may then begin to incorporate foreign techniques and ingredients into his or her cuisine to broaden the repertoire and/or personalize dishes. But there comes a time when Mr. or Ms. Chef is going to want to strike out on his or her own and make THE big cooking decision: In what style do I want to continue cooking? Will it be French or, better yet, Italian? Could I be making quesadillas in a food truck or is molecular cuisine my calling? Is my real purpose in life to run a cool bistro, or is catering the better way to go?

I see this breakaway from the French mothership happen often, a classic case being chef David Ferguson. Chef-owner of the late, great Le Jolifou in Rosemont, Ferguson hit the scene running in 2004 with his wife, Hélène Brault. Classically trained at the Stratford Chefs School in Stratford, Ont., Ferguson spent years working in top restaurants — including Montreal’s Toqué! and Au Pied de Cochon, as well as Santa Fe’s Coyote Café. That draw to southwestern cuisine resulted in a French/Mex fusion style at Jolifou unique on the Montreal landscape. Words like mojo, salsa, mole and ancho played alongside proteins like duck, deer, veal cheeks and salmon on Ferguson’s menu. “Taste sensations were many,” I wrote when I first reviewed Jolifou soon after it’s opening, “but the outcome is well balanced, with the French technique and ingredients dominating the flashes of fire and spice.”

Ferguson and Brault were a hit, and they soon expanded their 40-seat restaurant to double its size. Jamie Kennedy and Donald Link guest-cheffed here during High Lights Festival dinners and Ferguson’s cuisine kept pace with the fawning — and surprisingly anglo for the east end — customer base. But Ferguson wasn’t satisfied. After a trip to the barbecue capitals of the American South, he started rethinking his style again.

In 2011, he added the name “Roadhouse” to the Jolifou brand, ditched the tablecloths, dropped the prices and put a burger and chicken wings paired with homemade hot sauces on the menu. The new incarnation was reviewed in the casual column. I visited, enjoyed it, but walked away thinking Ferguson was a chef pulled in too many directions. And the quiet street scene on my way out of this half-empty restaurant pointed to a neighbourhood ill-suited for walk-in business.

When word came last fall that Le Jolifou would be closing, I wasn’t surprised, yet I was relieved to hear Ferguson was already planning his next move. (Brault, however, decided to return to her former employment in nursing.) His choice of neighbourhood was farther west on Beaubien, in very happening Little Italy, no less. The new restaurant would be called Gus and there would be only 30 seats. When asked whether he would be eager to expand one day, Ferguson’s firm reply was: “This place will never have more than 30 seats.”

Alrighty then ...

Opened last February, Gus is indeed tiny. With Russian-red walls and plain bistro furniture, the room’s main feature is a 10-seat bar facing the open kitchen (God, I love an open kitchen!), where I spot three cooks in action. Ferguson is the one wearing the straw cowboy hat. The menu captures the Ferguson of today. There are tacos made with foie gras, gazpacho filled with lobster, salads, lotsa grilled meats. Yes, there are Mexican and American chili and avocado-rich accents in this food, but not overwhelmingly so. The beverage list counts about two dozen well-selected and fairly priced wines, as well as a few cocktails and a pretty long list of beers. With this kind of cuisine, beer makes a good fit, but the bottle of Roc des Anges red that we enjoyed ($55) would be tough to beat at the table.

As for the food, to begin, there were lettuce wraps filled with tempura-fried shrimp and aubergine atop a mound of spicy salmon tartare. With its fabulous contrast of textures and flavours — crisp, crunchy, soft, cool, spicy — this dish won the starter round. The other appetizers included a velvety gazpacho (that unfortunately reminded me of rosé pasta sauce), which was saved by a delicious lobster garnish. And our third was a classic Caesar salad that was heavy on the cheese, had the ideal number of croutons and could have been heavier on the lardon slices. But the dressing was bang-on and the portion was just right, yet I wondered why they serve it with a pile of marinated peppers hot enough to singe off your nose hairs.

Main courses were all meat: a pork chop, a rib steak and a Cornish hen — grilled one and all. The pork chop was fantastic: thick, ideally pink inside and marinated in a buttermilk brine to assure tenderness. What a treat! The steak may even be better. American-born and bred, Ferguson’s choice of steak is thick, charred on the outside, perfectly magenta on the inside and deeply flavoured without being too fatty. Though served with a chipotle-enriched sauce, it was hardly needed, but the mashed potatoes served with both chops were too thick and gluey. Lighten up the spuds, and now we’re talking!

As for the chicken, think charred skin, moist meat, big portion and plenty of lime in the marinade. I thought it lacked a good hit of fresh herbs, but I reached for one of the homemade sauces on the table and that worked wonders at zuzzing up the meat. With the chicken came a salad of beets, spindly greens and red onion rounds that added a welcome healthy hit to all the meaty offerings.

Desserts, alas, did not reach the level of the savoury dishes. A chocolate cake topped with Bailey’s icing was too plain — like something you’d get off a church-basement sweet table — and the biscuit on a raspberry shortcake was thick and gummy in the centre. Enhanced with a shot of whisky, the tarte Tatin looked like some sort of high school cooking project gone wrong. What a mess that was.

Disastrous sweets aside, Gus has other pleasing assets. Our waiter was a sweetheart who knew his menu well and kept the dishes coming at just the right pace. The ambience is good fun, though I kept thinking a bit of jazz or blues or something in the background would pep it up all the more. And on the whole, I liked Ferguson’s food. I’m not sure exactly how I’d categorize it today (Tex-Mex/Californian/ barbecue/French?), but in the end, what struck me most is that it’s just the kind of food we all want to eat in summertime, be it on the backyard deck, or in this little red-walled resto, on a steamy July night in this endlessly captivating city of ours.

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